


Joy & Malloy's Boys

by sottovoce81



Series: Impossible Missions Force: Project S.H.I.E.L.D. [3]
Category: Inception (2010), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Suits (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Meet the Family, Meeting the Parents, Multiple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sottovoce81/pseuds/sottovoce81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil decides it's time to invite Clint home to meet the family.  Arthur agrees to bring Eames home for the first time as well.  Harvey is, as of yet, single--lucky for him.  As far as first impressions go, their family does not always shine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will (should!) fit in with almost every other Inception, Suits, Avengers (and Avengers/MI4 crossovers) that I write. This is my head!cannon family for Phil, Harvey, and Arthur. :) It was discovered around 2am at an iHop, so I'll gladly open it up to debate on whether it's a grand idea or a terrible flop. I for one am quite enjoying the idea though. Just saying... (And thank you, Sister #2 for helping me plot/plan this!)
> 
> Also, timeline-wise: this takes place about a year after Inception, maybe a year before the events of The Avengers 2012, and about two or three months after Harvey hires Mike.

**                 Clint: **

 

“I want to introduce you to my family,” Phil said one morning, as they lounged in bed.  He sounded cautious, as if he wasn’t sure the idea would be welcome.

To tell the truth, Clint wasn’t sure if it was or wasn’t.  He didn’t know how he felt.

He knew, of course, that Phil Coulson _had_ a family.  In some...distant, detached, vaguely assumed way.  But he had never really thought about actually meeting those people.  They were just kind of assumed to have existed.  Somewhere.

Clint could tell this was a big deal though.  Phil looked nervous about what he might say in reply.  Phil never looked nervous.

“When?” Clint finally managed.

Phil shrugged as best he could while lying down.  “We don’t have another mission for a few weeks.  But if you’d rather, we can wait a while.”

He was giving Clint an out, probably sensing his nerves.  Clint wasn’t exactly the kind of man you brought home to your parents.

Curious, Clint asked, “Do your parents know you’re gay?”

Phil smirked.  “Oh, they definitely know.  All three of us boys have been out for quite a while.”

“All of you?”

“Yes.  My mother will probably moan and groan about never getting grandchildren when she meets you, but she and dad really have no problem with our orientation.  Maybe it helped, growing up, that all three of us were in the same boat, but it’s almost never really been an issue.”

Clint considered that for a moment.  “When do you want to go?” he asked.

Phil shrugged again.  “Whenever you feel up to it.”

Clint rolled his eyes.  Typical Phil, not wanting to push him.  “How about sooner rather than later,” he suggested.

Phil smiled, and he knew it had been the right thing to say.  He pulled the man closer to him.

“I need to call Arthur,” Phil announced after a moment, somehow sounding both excited and nervous with his forehead resting on Clint’s shoulder.

Clint pulled away so that he could see Phil’s face.  “Which brother is he?”

“The youngest.”

“And you’re the oldest?” Clint asked, trying to remember what sparse information Phil had told him before.

“Yes.  Harvey’s three years younger than me, and Arthur’s six more than him,” Phil explained.

Clint had a little trouble forming the words of his next question because Phil starting rubbing his thumb against the back of Clint’s neck as he was wont to do when he was thinking.  He probably knew how distracting it was too, the jerk.

“When was the last time you saw them?”

Phil shrugged against him.  “Harvey lives in New York, so I see him almost once a month.  We grab coffee or get lunch every now and then.  The last time I saw Arthur was a little over a year ago.  He’s got a serious boyfriend, and they keep traveling all over the world—on business, he says, but I don’t know how much I believe it.”

“You sound close,” Clint said.  It was a simple observation; he could hear the truth in Phil’s voice.

“Yeah,” Phil mumbled.  “The three of us have always gotten along well.  Arthur kind of followed my footsteps, going into the military after graduation, but he ended up working in some other government branch before moving on to what he calls ‘stock and information trading’ now.”

“Is that as sketchy as you make it sound?” Clint wanted to know.

Phil shifted so that he could see Clint’s face.  “I’m pretty sure his boyfriend is a criminal.  I’ve also never really figured out what kind of stock or information Arthur is trading, but Harvey and Arthur have never pried into my life to figure out what I do, and so I’ve never done the same for either of them.  I think we just naturally came to an agreement that we would ignore the strange phone calls and business hours the three of us keep.”

“Sounds like there’s a lot of trust there,” Clint observed, wondering how that worked.

Phil nodded.  “I need to get Arthur back in the country so I can introduce you.  He’s always loved to terrorize my boyfriends.”

Clint didn’t have to fake a grin those words sparked.  “I’d like to meet them.”

Phil hummed in agreement.  Then he rolled over to reach for the cell phone on the nightstand.  He dialed and set the phone to rest against his ear as he moved back to Clint’s shoulder.  Clint felt a low hum of contentment run through him when he realized that Phil wasn’t going to take the call in private, but was probably purposefully sticking close enough for Clint to overhear both sides of the conversation.

The phone rang for a brief moment before it was answered.

_“Arthur’s phone.  On a scale of one to pretty-damn, how important is this call?”_

Phil huffed.  “You must be Eames.”

_“I’m sorry, who is this?  And also, you didn’t answer the question.  Arthur is a little bit busy right now.”_

Clint felt Phil stiffen a little bit, as if he were starting to get worried.  “I’m Arthur’s older brother.  Where the hell is he?”

_“Oh!  Uh...hello then, terribly sorry.  Let me wake Arthur for you.  Sorry, I uh, I thought you were someone calling about a job.  He deleted the address book on his phone last week.”_

Clint frowned at that, and he looked down to find Phil frowning as well.

_“I’m Eames, by the way,”_ the voice added.  _“Hold on just a pinch.”_

They listened to the sounds of Eames moving around wherever he was.  Then the same voice came across the line, muffled this time as if from a distance.

_“Love?  Hey, sorry to wake you—no, don’t worry, we’re safe.  Your brother is on the phone.”_

There was a quiet mumble of something before a new voice was on the line.  _“Hey,”_ it said quietly, the man sounding like he was still mostly asleep.

Clint watched as Phil smiled fondly.  “Hey, Arthur.  Where are you?”

_“Hm?  Eames—where’re we now?”_   (Eames answered but he was too far from the phone to be heard clearly.)  _“We’re in Akureyri.  Just a layover.”_

“Arthur.”  (Clint could hear the eye-roll in Phil’s voice; it was quite a feat.)  “There are no layovers that take place in Iceland.  Are you in trouble?”

_“No,”_ Arthur practically groaned into the phone.  _“We’re fine, we’re fine.  Just stopping for a night to rest.”_

“And where are you headed?”

_“Why?”_

“I was wondering if you might come home for a visit?”  Phil almost sounded hesitant, as if he were afraid to ask.  Clint wondered at that.

_“What’s going on?”_

Phil smiled.  “I’ve got some news.  Wanted to tell you guys all together.”

_“You’ve finally decided to just up and run for President?”_

“Ha, very funny,” Phil retorted drily.  “No.  I want to see you.  You’ve been gone too long.”

Arthur sighed, sounding exhausted.  _“I know...”_

“When can you get here?” Phil prodded.

_“Well we could get a flight and—“_

It sounded like the phone was grabbed out of Arthur’s hand.  And that was actually what happened because Eames’s voice was back on the line.  _“He’s not exactly fit to travel.  He’ll need at least a day of bed-rest.”_

Phil frowned, listening to Arthur grumbling arguments in the background.  “Why?  What’s wrong?”

Eames must have handed the phone over again, because Arthur was the one to answer that question.  _“Just had a bit of a run-in with some people who weren’t too appreciative of our work, Phil.  It’s fine.  I’m fine.  Eames is just being a mother hen.”_

They could hear Eames reply to that from a distance.  _“That’s what you get, darling, for getting shot again.”_

_“Eames!”_

“Arthur!”

Clint laughed silently when the brothers yelled at the same time.

“Arthur!  Why did you get shot?” Phil practically shouted into the phone.

_“I’m fine,”_ Arthur groaned.  _“Jeez, it’s not that bad.  It wasn’t anywhere vital.”_

“That’s not reassuring,” Phil growled.

_“It just got my arm.  I’ll keep it in a sling for a few days and be good as new.  I don’t really need bed-rest.  I’ll get a plane ticket, and I’ll—What?  Oh never mind, Eames is already getting a ticket.”_

“Is Eames coming with you this time?”

Arthur hesitated.  _“Um, yeah.  I’ve been meaning to bring him for a while, but things have been a little...crazy.”_

“Uh huh, I’m sure.  Well it’s a good thing you’re bringing him.  It’s about time we got to meet the elusive Eames.  And also,” he glanced at Clint, “I uh, I have someone to introduce as well, so...we can spread out the craziness a little.”

_“Phil?  Has it gotten serious between you and somebody?  Who?  Have you told me about him?”_

Phil rolled his eyes (a gesture Clint found so very foreign on the man’s face).  “I’m not saying any more.  You’ll have to come meet him at home.”

_“Fine.  We’ll get in Friday evening.”_

“What time does your flight get in?”

_“Eames says seven p.m.”_

“So how about we meet at the house Saturday morning, say nine a.m.?”

_“Sounds good.  Are you gonna call home?”_

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it.  You go sleep.  But hand the phone to Eames for a moment, would you?”

_“Why?”_   Even without knowing him, Clint could recognize the suspicion in his tone.

“Do it,” Phil ordered, ever the hard-ass (and, apparently, the older brother).

Arthur grumbled something Clint couldn’t make out, but the phone audibly changed hands again.

_“Hello, mate?”_

“Eames,” Phil said.  And there was a slight chill that settled at the base of Clint’s spine, though he knew the careful tone wasn’t directed at him; there was just something about the pitch that should have rightfully settled fear in anyone’s gut.

Eames cleared his throat.  _“Hm, yes...sir?”_

Clint rolled his eyes.

Phil narrowed his.  “I expect to see him well-rested and in a sling on Saturday morning.  Should that bullet wound not be in the best damn shape a wound can be—or should Arthur so much as have bags under his eyes—you might want to be prepared to defend yourself.  I assure you, I will not hesitate to shoot you with either of the guns that I will have on my person when we meet.”  Then he smiled one of those sickeningly fake grins that made Clint want to both run away and also shove Phil to his knees.  “It’s been nice talking with you.  See you Saturday.”

Phil hung up the phone with a decided click.

Clint waited for just a second, then grinned.  “You are a freaking scary older brother.”

Phil smirked.  “Yeah, well...just don’t let Arthur drag you to any quiet rooms alone for the ‘brother talk.’  I had a boyfriend once in college, we weren’t even that serious at the time, but after one visit home, Michael flinched every time I said Arthur’s name.”  Phil added drily, “Arthur was only eleven at the time.”

Clint wasn’t sure whether he was pulling one over on him or not.  He decided to let out the slight laugh that wanted to bubble up out of him.  But he cut it off shortly, realizing Phil was probably being serious.

When was the man not serious?

“So Saturday, huh?” Clint said instead.  “Big day.”

Phil yawned and settled himself half on top of Clint.  “Yep.  Big day.”

Phil called his other brother, Harvey, and his mother next.  The conversations were less hilarious to listen to, but no less interesting to Clint.  (He was still trying to piece together the idea of Phil having a family of real people.)  Phil exchanged tired pleasantries with his family members for a little while, and Clint felt himself drifting closer to sleep as he listened to the calm conversation around him.  He waited until Phil finally hung up on the second call to pull Phil a little closer to him though, where they usually slept.  Phil kissed his neck sleepily.  Then they both lay there for a while, enjoying their day off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter's phone call from Eames's pov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason Arthur and Eames are hiding out in Iceland right now is actually quite intriguing. However, I haven't written that story yet, so you guys will just have to wait and see... ;) I will tell you this though--they pulled a job, and Arthur got to meet Eames's mother.

**                 Eames: **

 

Arthur was finally sleeping in the little bed of their safe-house in Akrueyri.  Iceland was actually fairly nice in May.

They had escaped from Virginia with only the one bullet-wound between them.  Though, bugger all, it _would_ have to be Arthur who got injured...  Eames could have sighed in frustration.  Except, with Arthur currently unconscious, there would be no witness of his exasperation.

Eames was fiddling on Arthur’s laptop to try and see if there was anyone still following them.  It was doubtful.  The man who had shot Arthur wasn’t even involved in Dreamshare.  He probably had no idea who they were.  But still, the fact of the matter was that they didn’t know much about the men who had tried to kill them.  They had simply been in the wrong place, with the wrong people, at the wrong time.  It happened sometimes.

He sighed and tapped in another search phrase.  It would be so much easier if Arthur took care of this.  He was ridiculously good at research online.  Eames did better with people; he could get most of his needed information from people around the world.  But he couldn’t exactly leave Arthur to go talk to people.  And Arthur couldn’t take over the online research because he was currently sleeping off some pain pills.

He was probably almost due for his next dose, Eames realized absently.  But for the moment, sleep was more important.  Arthur had run himself ragged on their last job.  It was mostly Eames’s fault, not that Arthur would ever let him say that out loud.

Arthur’s phone suddenly lit up with a shrill sound, making Eames jump.  He cursed quietly as he reached for the device, hoping to get to it before it woke Arthur up fully.  (He almost dropped the laptop, which would have been even worse than waking Arthur.)

He punched the talk button harder than necessary.  “Arthur’s phone,” he growled into it.  “On a scale of one to pretty-damn, how important is this call?”

 _“You must be Eames,”_ a voice huffed from the other side of the line.  In a word, he sounded ‘unimpressed.’

Eames glanced over at the bed several feet away.  Arthur was still out of it, fortunately.  But he kept his voice low when he spoke again.  He wished he could step out of the room, but this safe-house was a one-room apartment and he wasn’t dressed enough to step outside.  (Not that it would have really bothered him, but Arthur kept telling him that he needed to be trained out of bad habits such as standing outside in only one’s boxers when little children might run by and scar their corneas on the bright colors of one’s pants.)  Eames considered stepping outside anyway, but Arthur would likely know.

“I’m sorry,” he said back into the phone, “who is this?  And also, you didn’t answer the question.  Arthur is a little bit busy right now.”

Arthur fidgeted under the cover, and Eames frowned.

 _“I’m Arthur’s older brother,”_ the voice said, frigid this time.  _“Where the hell is he?”_

Eames would forever deny the fact that he jumped.  “Oh!”  _Crap._   “Uh...hello then, terribly sorry,” he said awkwardly.

He still hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Arthur’s family.  He knew that after the whole thing with his own mother, Arthur had been planning to take him home sometime, but it was just one of those things that they hadn’t done yet.  They had been together for years, but somehow, it had just never really come up.

“Let me wake Arthur for you.”  Arthur would have killed him for not waking him for a call from his brother.  He rarely got calls from family, but Eames knew they meant everything to Arthur.

“Sorry, I uh, I thought you were someone calling about a job,” he tried to explain to the still-silent brother.  “He deleted the address book on his phone last week,” Eames rambled, setting the laptop down carefully.  Arthur had deleted the address book during the job, because there had been some concerns about his contact list being copied.

“I’m Eames, by the way,” he tacked on as he made his way to the bed.  “Hold on just a pinch.”

He leaned over Arthur, touching the shoulder of his good arm.  “Love?”

Arthur stirred, looking up with bleary eyes.

“Hey, sorry to wake you—no, don’t worry, we’re safe,” Eames assured Arthur when he got that look in his eyes like he was about to reach for his gun.  “Your brother is on the phone,” he explained.

“Oh,” Arthur said, still mostly asleep.  “I’ll take it, thanks,” he mumbled, reaching out a hand.

Eames pressed the phone into his hand and squeezed Arthur’s shoulder before he headed back for his seat across the room.

“Hey,” Arthur mumbled into the phone.  “Hm?  Eames—where’re we now?”

Eames worried for a second about why Arthur wouldn’t know that, but remembered the amount of painkillers he had slipped into Arthur’s drink as they had driven there the previous night.  Besides, Arthur still hadn’t really opened his eyes yet.

“We’re in Akureyri,” he answered with an amused smile, even though Arthur would hear it and roll his eyes at the tone.

(He did.)

“We’re in Akureyri,” Arthur told his brother.  (Eames wondered for a moment, how wise it was that Arthur was admitting that over the phone, but decided that they could be out of here in a minimum of four minutes if need be.)  “Just a layover,” Arthur added.  “No,” he groaned a moment later.  “We’re fine, we’re fine.  Just stopping for a night to rest.”  He sighed.  “Why?”

There was a moment of silence.

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked, sounding much more awake suddenly.  Probably not a good sign, Eames decided.  He looked over to see Arthur frowning at the ceiling.

Eames stood to get the painkillers and a glass of water from the kitchen area.

“You’ve finally decided to just up and run for President?” Arthur asked drily, but Eames could hear the worry in his voice.

There was silence for a moment, but Eames filled it as he ran the faucet.  He crossed the room.  He held out the pills and water, smiling pleasantly when Arthur frowned up at him.

“I know,” Arthur sighed into the phone.  He moved to sit up, and Eames quickly set the water and pills down to help him, though Arthur would have argued that he didn’t need it if he hadn’t been on the phone.  “Well we could get a flight and—”

Eames plucked the phone out of his hands, ignoring the furious glare that Arthur fixed on him.  “He’s not exactly fit to travel,” Eames said into the phone.  Arthur stuck his tongue out childishly, and Eames rolled his eyes.  “He’ll need at least a day of bed-rest,” Eames said, pinning Arthur with a look.

 _“Why?  What’s wrong?”_ Arthur’s brother asked, but Eames was already handing the phone back.

Arthur glared at him.  “Just had a bit of a run-in with some people who weren’t too appreciative of our work, Phil.  It’s fine,” he assured his brother.  “I’m fine.  Eames is just being a mother hen.”

Eames was on his way back to the laptop, but he called over his shoulder, “That’s what you get, darling, for getting shot again.”

“Eames!”

He smirked, secure in the fact that Arthur had nothing short of his water glass to throw, and he wouldn’t risk drowning the laptop.

“I’m fine,” Arthur groaned into the phone.  “Jeez, it’s not that bad.  It wasn’t anywhere vital.”  He sighed at whatever his brother said.  “It just got my arm.  I’ll keep it in a sling for a few days and be good as new.  I don’t really need bed-rest.”  (Eames fixed him with a doubtful look that Arthur ignored.)  “I’ll get a plane ticket, and I’ll—”

Eames waved him off.

“What?” he asked.

Eames turned the computer so that Arthur could see he was on the Internet, buying tickets to California.

“Oh never mind,” Arthur said into the phone.  “Eames is already getting a ticket.”

Eames was getting two tickets.  He wasn’t letting Arthur travel alone.  Besides, Arthur had met his mother now.  He wanted to meet Arthur’s family.  Tit for tat.

“Um, yeah,” Arthur said hesitantly.  “I’ve been meaning to bring him for a while, but things have been a little...crazy.”

Eames smiled at that.  Things had been crazy.  But, well, it was time for a vacation.  And maybe visiting Arthur’s family would be more restful than meeting up with Eames’s mother.

“Phil?  Has it gotten serious between you and somebody?” Arthur asked, sounding excited.  Eames smiled at that.  “Who?  Have you told me about him?”

Arthur rolled his eyes at whatever his brother said in reply.

Eames caught his eye.  “Friday at seven p.m.,” he said quietly, before finalizing the order for tickets.

Arthur nodded his thanks.  “Fine.  We’ll get in Friday evening.  Eames says seven p.m.”  There was a slight pause, then, “Sounds good.  Are you gonna call home?”

Eames knew a little about the background of Arthur’s family.  He had even seen projections of them a few times, when Arthur had pointed them out of the crowds.  But he had rarely heard Arthur refer to them as ‘home.’  He usually reserved that for whatever hideout they were headed to around the world.  They had several apartments, houses, and flats in an assortment of countries.  It was interesting to realize that Arthur had another home that Eames had never been to.  And he was interested to see how many new things he might learn about the man.

“Why?” Arthur asked, a cautious tone to his voice.  Eames looked up curiously, and smiled when Arthur made a face.  He moved the phone away from his ear.  “He wants to talk to you,” Arthur told him.  “I don’t know why.”

Eames tried to pretend his heart-rate didn’t speed up.  He set down the laptop and came to sit on the bed beside Arthur.

“Hello, mate?”

 _“Eames,”_ the brother said in a frigid voice.

His spine straightened unconsciously.  “Hm, yes...sir?” he tacked on awkwardly.

Arthur giggled.  _(Giggled!)_

Eames pinched his leg.

 _“I expect to see him well-rested and in a sling on Saturday morning,”_ Arthur’s brother ordered him.  _“Should that bullet wound not be in the best damn shape a wound can be—or should Arthur so much as have bags under his eyes—you might want to be prepared to defend yourself.”_

Eames swallowed, though he figured Arthur probably wouldn’t let anything get that far.

 _“I assure you, I will not hesitate to shoot you with either of the guns that I will have on my person when we meet.”_   Eames could hear him smiling coolly.  _“It’s been nice talking with you.  See you Saturday.”_

Then the line fell dead.

Arthur was grinning at whatever expression was on Eames’s face.  (Eames quickly blanked his expression.)

“Your brother is a little bit terrifying,” Eames announced.

Arthur laughed, taking the phone from him to set it on the night stand.  “Yeah, he is at that.  But you don’t get any pity from me, because your mom was pretty terrifying, herself.”

Eames smiled at the memories.  “I suppose that’s true, love.  But you won her over.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey and his parents are all excited about Phil and Arthur coming for a visit with their respective significant others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm including Mike's pov in this story, though it's definitely pre-slash for him and Harvey. I like him too much to not include him!

**                 Mike: **

 

“Mike, you can have Saturday off,” Harvey announced, appearing at the side of Mike’s desk as if by magic.

Mike was just glad he hadn’t jumped this time.  “What?  I thought we were going to prep the stuff for—”

“Family business has come up,” Harvey interrupted smoothly.

Family business?

“I _do_ have a family,” Harvey said, reading his face.

Mike smirked at that, but had to ask, “Is everything okay?”

“My older brother’s bringing home his boyfriend apparently,” Harvey said, with some amusement in his voice.  “He’s even convinced our younger brother to come in from Europe to meet the guy.  It should be an interesting weekend.”

Harvey was gone after those words, snagging a black pen from his penholder and slipping away before Mike could reply.  Not that he knew what he would say.

At least now he knew Harvey wasn’t a homophobe.  Huh...  Well, good to know.

 

 

**                 Joy: **

 

“Honey, we have to have the boys’ bedrooms made up,” Joy called downstairs to her husband.  “They’re all coming in Saturday morning.”

“All of them?” Malloy asked, sounding surprised.  She heard him get up from his desk and walk to the stairs to look up at her.

She grinned.  “Phil is bringing someone home.”

“Really?  Has he said anything about the man?”

“Not a word,” she said, exasperated.  “The boy tells me nothing.  But he will be arriving at nine tomorrow.  Arthur should get here around the same time, and listen to this—apparently Phil convinced him to bring Eames.”

“Eames?  He’s been together with that boy for years, and he’s only just now bringing him home?”

“I know, dear.  But apparently he’s finally ready to throw Eames to his brothers.”

Malloy let out a huff of laughter.  “Harvey’s going to have the time of his life tormenting both his brothers.”

She laughed too, knowing how true that was.  “When you finish the paperwork you’re filing now, want to help me clean up those rooms?  They’re a complete mess right now.”

“I’ll be up in fifteen,” he agreed happily.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil arrives at his parents house with Clint in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Phil acts a little quirky or ooc, this is because people tend to act a little different around their families than they do anywhere else.

  **Phil:**

 

Phil wouldn’t say he was nervous.  Not exactly.  He knew that his family would love Clint.  What wasn’t to love?

No, he was almost more worried about meeting Arthur’s man.  Except he wasn’t, really, because Arthur had been mentioning Eames by name for almost a decade, and Phil couldn’t really remember a time when it didn’t sound like Arthur was together with Eames.  If the man had managed to stay in Arthur’s good favor for nearly ten years, he was probably going to be around for quite a while.

He didn’t know why he was nervous, really.  Just...he didn’t want this weekend to go poorly.

“Calm down,” Clint very nearly growled beside him as they stepped onto the front porch.  “Jeeze.  I’m supposed to be the nervous one here.  I’m about to be thrown to the Specter family like a poor tiny lamb to a group of jackals.”

“When did I tell you my last name?” Phil asked, suddenly realizing that he had no memory of this.

Clint rolled his eyes.  “It was on the mailbox about a mile back.  Seriously, how big is your parents’ house?”

Phil only smiled at him and raised a hand to knock on the door.  His parents’ house was rather impressive.  The property was around twenty acres in size, with their house standing back a good five hundred meters from the nearest road.  The actual house was a two-story building of stone in dark reds and browns, with ivy climbing up one of the sides of the house’s face.  Phil eyed that ivy with a little wariness, wondering if he was going to be asked to trim it again sometime soon.  As his mother might say, it seemed to be in a bit of a ‘ _world-domination-mode.’_

“So what is it that your parents do exactly that has gotten them this place?  Please tell me they’re art thieves.”

Phil loved answering that question.  “They’re janitors.”

Let him figure that one out.

The door slid open at that moment, and his mother was on them.  “Phillip!  Honey, welcome home!”  She pulled him into a tight hug, as if she only saw him once a year.

When he could breathe again, he stepped back and reached for Clint, who had taken a slight step back.  “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Clint Barton.  Clint, this is my mother, Joy.”

“Hi, Clint, it’s so good to finally meet you!”  Normally, she would have dived in for a hug.  But Phil saw her catch the momentary hesitation behind Clint’s stance.  She reached for a handshake instead, which Clint easily answered.

“Nice to meet you to,” he said in his best polite tone.

She stepped back then, and tilted her head to the side, lips pursed, studying his face with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Mom...” Phil protested, with a slight huff he couldn’t help.

Clint turned to squint at him.  “Oh my god, were you the _sulky_ teenager of the house?  I didn’t even know you could _make_ that tone!”

Phil glared at him halfheartedly.  “I do sign off on all of your fieldwork, you know.  Have you rethought your stance on Alaska recently?”

“Have you?  As I recall, wherever I get posted, you almost always have to come to so you can check on me.  And I distinctly remember you saying you didn’t like the popsiclized version of your boyfriend.  You said he was a bad cuddler—I remember that.  It was a thing.”

Phil’s glare turned into an eye-roll.

“I’m sorry—did you just roll your eyes?  Who are you, and when did you switch bodies with my boyfriend?”

“’Popsiclized’ isn’t a word,” Phil said, turning back to his mother.

She was still standing there—unfortunately.  And she was grinning.  Widely.  Almost manically.  “I like him, Phillip.  We should keep him.  Does he have any siblings for Harvey?”

“Sorry,” Clint answered with a grin, “I’m a one-of-a-kind model.”

Phil thought of the closest person Clint had to a sibling...and shuddered at the thought of Natasha and Harvey hooking up.  Their babies could probably (and would quite possibly) overthrow the entire world.

His mother waved them in.  “Well come on inside, boys.  The others are in the kitchen.”

Phil ushered Clint inside, following after his mother as she led the way.  He reached out to squeeze Clint’s hand, checking on him silently.  Clint squeezed back, sending him a quick smile.  Then his eyes went back to studying as much of the house as he could see from where they were walking.  He seemed a little overwhelmed by the size of it.

Phil’s mother led them into the kitchen, which was a large room of tasteful warm colors—reds and yellows, with black appliances.  Harvey was leaning against one of the counters by the stove, where his father was stirring something in a large pot that smelled like home.

Harvey looked up with a grin that had a decided glint of—

“Philly!”

—payback.

Phil sent Clint a warning glare.  “Don’t even think about it.”

Clint raised his hands defensively, but he was smiling in that innocent way that told Phil this moment was _never_ going to be forgotten.  “Wouldn’t dare.  Ever.”

Phil huffed and turned to be pulled into a hug by Harvey.

“Harvey, this is Clint.  Clint, my kid brother.”

Clint and Harvey shook hands nicely, but Phil could read the tension in both of their set jaws and shoulders.  They traded forced pleasantries, but Harvey’s eyes were busy taking in the cut of Clint’s suit (fitting, but not quite perfect) and Clint was busy figuring out what kind of threat Harvey might pose.

Phil ignored them to hug his father and smell the soup on the stove.  After Clint and Harvey were done trading measuring eyes and generally pissing everywhere, Phil introduced Clint to his father.

“Nice to meet ya, son,” his father said, since he called every male who was at least ten years younger than himself ‘son.’

Clint (mostly) ignored the title and pasted on what looked like a sincere grin.  Phil could still read the slight tension in the set of his jaw and in the flicker of his eyes though.  Clint wasn’t quite as at-ease as he would have liked Phil to think. So he shifted a bit closer to Clint and began trying to pull his father and Harvey into a conversation so that his boyfriend could have a moment to find his footing again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Eames!” Arthur barked. “Do not—I repeat, do not—discuss sex with my mother!”

**                 Arthur: **

 

Arthur couldn’t help the grimace he made as Eames helped him out of the car.  And by the look on Eames’s face, he had seen it too.  But he politely ignored it and went to grab their two bags and the PASIV device from the trunk.

Arthur didn’t try to grab any of their things.  Eames wouldn’t have allowed it anyway.

They walked up the front walk, passing Harvey’s and Phil’s cars on the way.

“So darling, any last words of advice?” Eames asked, only half kidding, as he followed up the steps to the porch.

Arthur rolled his eyes.  “You already know more about them than I knew about your mother.”

“Yes, but there are more of them here, love,” he whined.  “I’m out-numbered.”

“You’ll be fine."

“If I’m not, will you kiss it better?”

Arthur didn’t need to try to hear the leer in his voice.  “Eames,” he said flatly.

“Yes, my sweet?”

But the door was opened before Arthur could find a fitting reply.

His mom practically leapt out of the doorway.  “Arthur!  Oh my goodness your arm!  What did you do?  Are you okay?  Oh, you must be Eames!  I’m so glad to finally meet you!  Is Arthur all right?”

“Mom, I’m fine,” Arthur said mildly.  “Just had a little accident on the job.  Mom, this is Eames.  Eames, my mother, Joy Specter.”

She pulled Eames into a tight hug before he could even get out a greeting.  It was pretty standard behavior for her, really.

But when she didn’t let go for a long moment, Arthur felt he had to cut in.  “Mom?  I think he can’t breathe.”

“Oh, sorry!” she laughed, backing up quickly.  “I just—he has very muscular arms.  But of course you know that—why wouldn’t you know that?”  She grinned at Arthur wickedly.  “I bet his muscles are very handy in certain settings.”

Arthur felt the start of a blush forming as Eames let out a full-bellied laugh beside him.

“Oh love,” Eames gasped, still chuckling, “I can see where you get your occasional sauciness from!”

“Sauciness?” his mother repeated, sounding highly amused.  “Arthur can be _saucy_?”

“My good lady,” Eames said quite seriously, a hand pressed to his heart, “I fear that tales of Arthur’s saucy wit might shock and appall you.”

“Perish the thought!” his mother said, faking a gasp.

Eames shook his head a bit sadly.  “Alas, ‘tis not for a classy woman like you to hear.  However, if you want to hear stories about how your son puts his own lovely set of muscles to work in certain settings, I’ll be around for a few days.”

And there was that full blush...

“Eames!” Arthur barked.  “Do not—I repeat, _do not_ —discuss sex with my mother!”

Eames fake-pouted as Arthur’s mother went off into peals of laughter.

His mother began trying to get control of herself, though she was still chuckling a bit.  “Come in, come in, boys.  Everyone’s here already.  They’re all in the kitchen.”

Eames let Arthur lead the way inside, pausing long enough to leave their bags and the PASIV a few feet from the door when they entered.  Then they followed his mother farther into the house.  The kitchen was loud when they reached it, but unsurprisingly, it quieted almost immediately upon their arrival, everyone turning to focus on them.

Arthur rolled his eyes preemptively.

“He exists!” Harvey mock gasped.

“Good to see you too,” Arthur said dryly.  “Everyone, this is Eames.  Eames, this is my insane family.”

For a moment then, it became a whirlwind of people pushing forward to hug him and ask how his arm was, then to shake hands with Eames.  It took him a moment to work his way through the group—Phil, his dad, Harvey—

When Harvey pulled him into a hug, he muttered lowly, “All we’ve managed to gather from Phil’s new boy toy is that he works with Phil for the government and he’s probably got some sort of military background with the way he stands.”

Arthur stepped back to look, because he hadn’t even gotten a good view of the guy yet.  But when he turned, he was just in time to see Eames pulling the stranger into a rough hug, laughing, and patting the guy on the back.

“How long’s it been, mate?  Twelve, thirteen years?” Eames was asking.

“Just about,” the man replied with an equally large grin.  “I see you’ve risen above the pit of despair and made something of yourself, Bobby.”

“Oh, I only joined up with the Wild Bunch to learn a few skills, Hawk.  You know that.  Good life lessons to share, the lot of ‘em.”  Eames looked over.  “Arthur darling, come meet uh—”

“Clint,” the man supplied with an amused smirk.  “Clint Barton.”

“Come meet Clint,” Eames said, smirking as well.  “We ran together for a bit when I was toiling away my time in England.”

Arthur paused for a moment, analyzing the stranger before him.  He was dressed to impress, but clearly not in a suit he wore on normal work days.  He wasn’t quite comfortable in it.  He stood straight and still as a stone, but not like any form of military that Arthur was aware of.  His eyes were watchful, maybe even dangerous.  They were assessing Arthur and not bothering to hide it.  He looked nervous.  When Arthur’s mom bumped the pot on the stove with its lid, his eyes flashed to her, then seemed to check on everyone’s position in the kitchen with lightning speed, like he was trying to be sure he still knew where everyone was.  Not great with crowds, it seemed.  Or just hyperaware.  Trained, but perhaps not military.  Dangerous, but most likely not to any of them.

“He’s one of the good guys, love,” Eames said, breaking the silence that had built up.  He said it humorously, but Arthur could sense the thread of a serious statement.

Arthur pulled on a smile to apologize for his hesitation, and moved to shake the man’s hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These boys might do.

**                 Harvey: **

To say the atmosphere in the kitchen had gone tense might be an understatement.  Out of reflex, he had frozen where he stood when Arthur stopped to stare at Phil’s guy.  But then the mood was broken by Eames, inviting Arthur over to be introduced.

Harvey wasn’t sure he liked the dynamics of the room now either.  He and Arthur were trying figure out Phil’s guy, while he and Phil tried to make sure this Eames character was really worth Arthur’s time.  And now Eames seemed to know Phil’s guy from way back when.

At least he hadn’t brought anyone home.  He hoped to maybe do that again, oh, say... _never_.  He was not the scariest sibling in this household.  Oh no.  Phil and Arthur took turns, trading off bad-cop, worse-cop the last time Harvey brought some poor girl home.  They had been even worse the last time he brought a guy home.

Nope, Harvey had learned his lesson.  And he was glad that in this case, he could terrorize them both a bit, with no instant repercussions to be had.  He wasn’t exactly in a place right now to be forming relationships anyway.  He likely wouldn’t have anyone worthy of being brought home for quite some time.

And most days, that was fine with him.

Like today.

Harvey sharpened his smile a bit, glancing at his brothers.  They were both standing by their boyfriends now, the four of them chatting about how Eames and Nameless had known each other years ago.  (Phil’s guy hadn’t earned the right of Harvey using his name yet.  Petty, sure.  Ridiculous, maybe.  Did the childish thought matter to him—not at all.)

Phil’s guy was laughing.  “Of course, back when I knew this guy,” he said, jabbing a thumb at Eames, “he was going by the name of Handsome Bob.”

“Pah!  Like you have any right to talk, Mr. Hawk-Eye.”

Phil had been grinning, but he suddenly looked oddly thoughtful.  “Hawkeye, you say?”  He gave his guy an assessing look.  “That could actually work...”

The guy grinned and shook his head a little self-deprecatingly.  “Of course.  Yep sure, let’s give me a really embarrassing nickname for the office.  Oh yay,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Phil rolled his eyes.  “Shut it.  If the Initiative gets off the ground—”

“Then everyone in the group gets silly codenames,” he finished.  “Yes yes, I got it.  Guess what I’m gonna name you if it comes to that.”

“I don’t need a field name.  I won’t be in the field.”

He grinned wickedly, and Harvey had to admit he was starting to like this guy a little more.  “That doesn’t mean you won’t be on radio with our team the whole time.  And if I have to survive a ridiculous field name, then so do you.”

Yep.  Nameless guy might just be upgraded to having a name by the end of this weekend.  He seemed like he might actually be able to keep up with Phil, who tended to move through life at a rapid rate, leaving girlfriends and boyfriends behind as he outgrew them.

It was too bad Eames had been around so long (though not ever physically) because his name had already been ingrained in Harvey’s memory.  Oh well, maybe he could just call him Bob until the man threw a fit or Arthur threatened to beat him.

 

 

**                 Malloy: **

It was interesting to have all the boys back home.  He and Joy hadn’t had their boys all together in one place in almost a year.  Arthur tried to come for a visit yearly, usually Christmas.  Phillip was almost as bad, even though he mostly lived in New York.  He was by every few months, but couldn’t always guarantee the holiday season.  Thank God for the easy child.  Harvey was home every couple of weeks for dinner at least.  And he swung by once a month for their Star Trek marathons too.

It was a good thing they had one kid who was home a lot.  Malloy figured his wife probably would have up and cried herself sick if Harvey moved away.  Actually, she had done that anyway when first Phillip and then Arthur moved away.  But it would have been worse.  At least she had one kid to hold onto and dote upon.

Malloy watched as his oldest and youngest boy standing with their guests.  Both strangers had a firm handshake.  Good sign.

Phillip’s boy seemed a bit nervous.  Malloy felt bad for him having to meet the whole crazy gang at once, but if he was going to be a big part of Phillip’s life, he might as well see where he came from.  And if he survived this weekend, then he’d have proven himself to Malloy.  He stood like a military man, capable and ready for whatever might happen.  But his smile was ready and bright, though more so for Phillip than anyone else in the room.  He and Phillip looked comfortable together.  They seemed to fit.  As they began talking with Arthur and Eames, Malloy was watching them, noting the private smiles shared, and the casual touches of Phillip getting Clint’s attention, and of Clint nudging Phillip during a joke.

Malloy wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he heard his oldest was bringing a man home.  He had rarely ever brought people.  It took him too long to get serious with anyone, and too little time to lose interest in them.  But this guy, Clint, he might be around a while.  Apparently he already had been if the conversation was a good indicator.  Phil was explaining that he and Clint had been working in the same government department for a few years now.

Eames was quite a lot of what Malloy had been picturing, but...more.  He talked more than Arthur had warned, laughed louder, smiled brighter.  Malloy could see a bit of what his youngest must like about the man.  He was one of those personalities that drew others to it, like a moths to a flame.  When he grinned and leaned over to mumble something in Arthur’s ear, you couldn’t help but want to know what he said.  When he laughed, you wanted to laugh along.

He would be good for Arthur.  The boy was too serious.  Always had been, unless his brothers were there to poke at him and meddle with his calm.

Yes, these boys might do.


	7. Chapter 7

 

**                 Clint: **

 

Clint wasn’t sure if Phil could tell that Clint was still feeling a bit uncomfortable in the large group.  (Forget that, of course Phil knew.)  He almost wanted to protest when Phil said something to his family about the two of them needing to go settle stuff in their room upstairs.  And Clint had to work not to blush when he caught Harvey eyeing the two of them like he knew what they would get up to in that room during their stay here.

Phil either ignored it or didn’t notice the look his brother gave them.  He just claimed Clint’s elbow and led him out of the kitchen, which was fine.  Besides, Eames was now saying something about Arthur needing a nap—which Arthur was protesting loudly.

Clint smirked as he was led away.

“So you know Eames?” Phil asked, as they traced their way back through the huge house to the front door to grab their bags.

“Yeah,” Clint said, not really sure where this was heading.  “We knew each other a long time back.  Hung out for a bit in the same group in England.”

“Doing something illegal?”

Clint rolled his eyes.  “Minor stuff, hardly mattered.  He taught me how to work disguises and act like I belonged in any setting, I taught him how to pick locks.”

Phil began leading him up the stairway to the second floor, but Clint could read tension in his shoulders.

“What?”

“What?” Phil repeated, not looking back.

“Ask what you really want to ask, Phil.  Use your words.”

Phil shook his head, and kept walking.  So Clint rolled his eyes and kept following.  He figured it said something about their relationship that this kind of moment was normal—Phil refusing to explain exactly what was going on, but Clint unable to do anything but follow anyway.  Phil was getting better about it.  He just never knew how to say a lot of what he really wanted to say.  And that was fine, Clint had enough trouble on his own end with that too.  They would make it work.

It wasn’t until they were standing in Phil’s childhood room—a place that Clint was planning to study every inch of—that Phil finally said what was bothering him.  He was hanging a suit in the closet, pushing aside some old _casual_ clothing that Clint would probably never see again, when he stopped suddenly, and turned with a frustrated motion of his hands.

“You just—you never slept with Eames, did you?”

Clint had to work hard not to smile, but Phil saw the twitch of his mouth anyway and glared at him.  He shook his head, wanting to laugh.  “No, I never slept with your brother’s boyfriend.  Thought about it once or twice,” he said flippantly, amused with the way it made Phil’s shoulders tense up more, “but he had his head so full of this other guy in the group that it would have been stupid of me.  The idiot thought he was in love with one of the leaders of the group, dumbass that he was at the time.  And that guy never even noticed his pitiful crush.”

Phil processed that, and nodded, looking away awkwardly.

Clint did laugh then.  “Don’t worry, you and your brother aren’t Eskimo Brothers yet—unless you’ve forgotten to inform me about something from your youth.”

“That’s disgusting,” Phil said mildly.

“Yeah well...”  He shrugged.

Phil leaned a shoulder against the closet door, still seeming lost in thought.  Better to end that here rather than let it run its course.

“So,” Clint said, “wanna do it in your childhood room?”

Phil rolled his eyes.  “My family is downstairs.”

Clint sat down on the bed, bouncing just a bit to test it.  “Yeah, but we can be quiet.  Besides, Harvey was already giving us the stink-eye when we left.”

“Fuck Harvey.”

Clint smirked.  “I’d rather not.  It would be weird, him being your brother and all.”

Yeah, he deserved the dry look Phil gave him.  But Phil was also crossing the room then, pausing by the door to lock it, so he counted it as a win.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, random question for you, but...does your family know we’re married?”

**                 Eames: **

 

Eames wasn’t sure how he had managed to shuffle Arthur upstairs and to a bedroom.  He had expected more of a fight from the man.  He looked tired though.  And he had started spacing a bit, like he wasn’t quite following conversation well.

So Eames announced that it was Arthur’s naptime, much to the amusement of his family, and much to the apparent annoyance of Arthur’s.  He ignored the glare, and smiled at the amused laughs from Harvey and Joy, simply slipping a hand against his lower back and leading him out of the room.

They grabbed their bags from the doorway, even as Arthur was protesting for appearances’ sake.  “I’m fine, you know.  It’s not like I’m a little kid, I would tell you I needed a nap if I really did.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” he said pleasantly, only allowing Arthur to carry the smallest bag with his one good arm.

Arthur huffed a sigh and began leading the way upstairs.

When they got to the bedroom upstairs, Eames helped Arthur out of his suit and into something more comfortable (with little protest from Arthur, which said a lot).

“I’m really fine,” Arthur said, yet again, when Eames pushed him towards the bed.  But he was rubbing a thumb against his arm as if that might stop it from aching.

“Well I’m tired,” Eames argued.  He dropped his suit jacket onto a chair because Arthur would yell at him for letting it lay on the floor.  Then he let his shirt and slacks follow.  He climbed into the bed, getting comfortable before he looked pointedly up at Arthur, who sighed again before moving to join him.

Arthur didn’t even comment when Eames helped him lay down without hurting his arm.

Then they lay there for a long moment in silence, both just thinking, and Eames eyeing the slight bags under Arthur’s eyes.

“You didn’t sleep well last night,” Eames commented.

Arthur grimaced.

“The arm?”

“No,” Arthur said.  “Well, not just that.”

“Nervous about today?”

Arthur shook his head.  “Not really.  It’s not like anything they could have said about you would change anything between us.”

Eames wasn’t sure how to not react like an idiot in response to that, when Arthur was so matter-of-fact about it.  “So, random question for you, but...does your family know we’re married?”

“God no!  _Don’t you dare tell them!_   My parents would _kill_ me for not telling them!”

“I’m more worried about your brother, Phil,” Eames admitted.  “He’s already threatened me once.”

Arthur grimaced.  “Yeah, actually, you should maybe be more worried about him.  I think he’s still mad at me for scaring off one of his prospective boyfriends in college...”

“This sounds like a story.”

Eames had long ago given up feeling ridiculous for how hot he found that wicked smile of Arthur’s...

“Well,” Arthur began, “I was eleven at the time, so keep that in mind.”

Eames grinned.  “Please tell me you threatened him with physical violence.”

“Oh believe me, I did!  I could tell, even back then, that there was no way this guy would be sticking around.  And he didn’t.  Phil dated him for a few months, but dumped him with just as little feeling as with the two before him.  Since I knew they wouldn’t stay together, I didn’t exactly mince my words.”

“What did you say?”

“Well, it started with me pulling him into a closet and shining a flashlight in his eyes.”

“Please don’t be lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Arthur assured him.  “I was dramatic at eleven, but it worked at the time.”

“So what did you do?”

“I interrogated him.  I asked him what his intentions were towards my brother, and whether or not he was with Phil just to get in his pants.”

Eames snorted.  “Oh god...!  Keep going, keep going.”

Arthur was grinning wildly now.  “And then I gave him the shovel speech to end all speeches.  I told him I had been watching a lot of crime shows lately, and that I knew of things to do to people who made me angry—in quite a lot of detail, of course.  And to end it all, I pulled out my favorite pocket-knife and waved that around a bit.  I uh, I may have nicked his arm slightly, to make my point.”

“You _didn’t_!” Eames gasped.

“I did.  I’m a little ashamed of that one.”

“Lies.  You’re just as proud as I am of you right now.”

Arthur laughed.  “Maybe.  I’m not admitting anything.”

They lay there for another long moment, as Eames rolled that story over in his mind.  “I think this is my favorite mental image of your childhood,” he said after some consideration.

“Definitely a highlight, looking back now,” Arthur agreed.

“So you would say I should avoid Phil and closets, yeah?”

Arthur made a face.  “Avoid Phil and enclosed spaces if it’s just the two of you.  He was always better at intimidating people than I was.  Just don’t find yourself alone with him.”

“Should I watch out for anyone else?” Eames asked, with some trepidation.

Arthur shrugged, but froze when that pulled on his arm.  Eames moved automatically to start rubbing the tension out of his shoulder and arm.

“You’ve already won over my mom,” Arthur said after a moment.  “My dad’s quiet, so he shouldn’t pull you aside for any lectures I don’t think, but he may pull me aside if he doesn’t like what he sees.  Harvey...I’m not sure.  Usually he just sticks to teasing loudly in front of everyone.  He should probably be fine.  Really it’s just Phil you need to not get trapped by.”

“Could be worse,” Eames said, trying to somehow focus on that.

Arthur grinned.  “Yeah, Harvey really has no chance whatsoever when he brings people home.”

Eames laughed at that.  “Oh god, your poor brother.  I feel so bad for him!”

“He’s fine, he’s fine.  We’re just toughening him up.”

Eames groaned.  “I can’t even imagine...”

“He’ll be fine.  If he ever brings someone decent home, we’ll treat them well.”  The last words were almost inaudible when they got run over by a yawn.

Eames couldn’t help but smile at how adorable a sleepy Arthur was.

Arthur noticed the smile of course and rolled his eyes.

“Oh shush,” Eames said.  “It’s not like you act any different when I’m on pain meds.”

Arthur refused to respond to that.

“Go to sleep now.  And don’t dream up ways to break Clint.  He was a good mate to have all those years ago.”

Arthur studied him for a second, as if searching for a lie on his face.  “Can we trust him?”

“He kept me alive through a bunch of shite,” Eames said honestly.  “And he actually helped me realize I could do better than the Wild Bunch.  He got fed up with the petty life and decided he wanted more.  Offered me a ride out, but I ended up having to make that decision in my own time.  He was long gone by the time I left.”

“You were good friends?”

“Yeah, we were.  Had a good run, the two of us.  The gang was actually named for us, because everyone said we were so wild.  But he and I came up with some of the best plans, and somehow they always came out all right.”

“And you think he could be worthy of my brother?” Arthur asked.  “Of my family?”

“I haven’t seen him in over a decade, but...but yeah, I think he could be,” Eames said honestly.  “He’s very loyal to those he cares about.  And I can tell he really does care for your brother.”

Arthur nodded.  “Okay.”

“Okay,” Eames repeated.

And that was that.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So seriously man, what have you been up to?” Clint asked after a moment of silence. “Phil said that you and Arthur work in ‘stock and information trading’ which, I’ve got to admit, sounds quite sketch.”

  **Eames:**

 

It didn’t take too long for Arthur to fall asleep.  And Eames found that he simply couldn’t.  He was antsy.  So he got up after a while and prowled around the room, looking for details to add to his view of Arthur’s childhood.  The pictures were hilarious and adorable.  The trophies from little league made him grin.

But eventually, Eames got bored of prowling the room.  So he resettled the covers over Arthur, where they had begun slipping.  Then he pulled on a pair of slacks and grabbed a t-shirt from his bag.  He found Clint exiting his own room across the hall, and caught sight of Phil already halfway down the stairs.

Clint and Eames shared a grin, finally alone for a moment.  Eames glanced back to make sure Arthur was fine, and then decided to just prop the door open.

“So how is it, mate?” Eames asked.

Clint shrugged.  “It’s been good.”

“Are you supposed to be following Phil somewhere, or do you have a minute to catch up?” Eames asked.

“He’s going to talk to Harvey about something,” Clint said, shrugging.

So they took a seat on the floor right there in the hallway, neither one admitting they didn’t want to go talk anywhere closer to the crazy Specter family.

“So,” Clint began.

“Yeah.”

“Arthur, huh?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, and then you and Phil too, huh.”

Clint made a face.  “Um, just a note, can you like not _ever_ mention that one time we almost slept together?  Phil was a little freaked out, asking if we had ever uh, done anything.”

Eames laughed quietly, mindful of Arthur in the next room.  “Oh god, I forgot about that.  But it hardly counts.  It was a threesome.”

“A threesome that never actually happened, remember?  We were all perfectly clothed enough to jump out that window when our hotel room got set on fire.”

“Okay, so it didn’t technically count as no one was completely naked, but...”

“No.  Don’t mention it.  Ever.”

Eames smirked.  “Afraid your boy toy will be angry at you for lying.”

“Afraid he might book me a job in Alaska and purposefully forget about me for a few weeks.”

Eames shook his head, wanting to laugh again at the thought.  After a moment, he could control himself again.  “So you work with Phil?”

“Yeah.  We work for the same branch right now, but mostly in slightly different departments.  The higher-ups are trying to form this new department though, and if it happens he’ll be kind of like my handler I guess.”

“Sounds kinky.”

Clint huffed a slight laugh.  “Yeah, gotta admit it does.  But sadly it probably won’t be.  At least not on the job.  He has a thing about shenanigans on the job.”

“A shame.  Those can be the best shenanigans to have.”

Clint shook his head.  “Almost-threesome in point...”

Eames glanced over his shoulder, but Arthur still seemed out.  “So what do you make of the family so far?”

“In a word?  Dangerous.”

“No kidding.”

“Yeah.  So um, how afraid should I be of Arthur right now?  Phil didn’t really tell me much.”  
  
Eames smirked.  “Well, let’s just say he can be damn intimidating if he chooses to be.  But I put in a good word for you earlier.  I told him that I trust you.”

Clint looked surprised.  “Thanks.  I uh, I really appreciate that.”

“Uh huh.  So you should do the same for me or I may have to resort to embarrassing stories soon.”

Clint made a sarcastic sound.  “Please, what have you got?  I’ve got the little girl who pick-pocketed you.”

“And I have the thing with the drunken karaoke.”

Clint’s eyes narrowed.  “The time you crashed that wedding,” he threatened.

“I thought it was a drug deal,” Eames argued, not wanting to rehash that _again_.

“It wasn’t.”

Eames rolled his eyes.  “One word: origami.”

“Two words: strip poker.”

Eames considered that, then inclined his head.  “Okay, I’d forgotten that one.  Oh...”  He grinned evilly.  “The _cat_.”

Clint groaned.  “Why do you still remember that?”

Eames knew from his tone that he had won.  “So you’ll put in a good word for me?  At least make sure your boyfriend doesn’t try and skin me alive?”

“I’ll make sure he at least knocks you out first,” Clint agreed.

They grinned at each other.

“So seriously man, what have you been up to?” Clint asked after a moment of silence.  “Phil said that you and Arthur work in ‘stock and information trading’ which, I’ve got to admit, sounds quite sketch.”

Eames shook his head.  “Um...yeah I don’t even know where to begin.  And I'm not telling you anything anyway, because I know you’ll tell your boy toy and then he will kill _my_ boy toy.”

“He won’t approve?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Clint chuckled at that.  “He’s going to skin you alive.”

Eames kicked his foot.  “If I know you at all—and if I’m reading Phil as well as I know I must be—it’s not likely that Arthur would be too glad of whatever work you two are up to either.”

Clint obviously had no argument for that.  He just grinned and gave a shrug.

“So what is it that you two are doing?” Eames prodded.

“We work for a highly selective branch of the U.S. government.”

Eames shook his head.  “You’re a government suit, eh?  Times sure do change, don’t they, Hawk Eye.”

“Sometimes not too much,” Clint said with a smirk.  “Doesn’t seem like you’ve moved too far away from the illegal side of things.”

“Shut it.  And don’t tell Phil, or I’ll have to talk to him about a certain _cat_.”

Clint shut up, but he didn't stop grinning.  Eames rolled his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys for the long wait for these updates. I'm coming back to this fic finally, so hopefully I will have it done in a week or two!!
> 
> Yes, there is more Mike coming up. I'm working out details for how I'm going to get him more prominently in this fic.
> 
> Also, a note on the timeline of this 'verse. This fic would actually take place before the previous two that I just stuck it to. Because in this fic, Clint and Coulson are not yet married. Clint has already gone on the FUBAR mission to Croatia, where Julia Hunt died (this happened probably six-ish months ago). And now, it will be about 6-12 months before he starts working with Ethan and the Mission Impossible team, and about three years before the Avengers Initiative gets off the ground.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Deep Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/852068) by [Cup_aTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cup_aTea/pseuds/Cup_aTea)




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